


Sam and Hermea: Vignettes

by Coppernicous



Series: Coppernicous Interconnected Writing [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Huge Breasts, Lactation, hyper breasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppernicous/pseuds/Coppernicous
Summary: Join Sam and Hermea in their daily lives, and the trials and difficulties they experience.(Lots of world building; you can jump straight to the action scenes, but context does help you get a better idea of what's going on.)
Series: Coppernicous Interconnected Writing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172495
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	1. Early Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Search for "*~*" to jump straight to the action.

Hermea stirred. Her alarm had finally completed its task, provoking her awake. An arm flailed at her phone, eventually picking it up and shutting off the alarm after a few bleary attempts. The phone fell to the carpeted floor as Hermea slowly booted up her brain for the coming day.

Slowly, she pushed herself up into a seated position, only to slump back against the cushion behind her. She was a mess in the mornings, honestly. Her curly, blonde hair adamantly refused to stay neat overnight, which is why she kept it cut close to her shoulders. When it actually cooperated, it was actually nice to have; anything to distract from the annoying tint of green of her eyes and how disproportionately tall and thin she was.

She pulled an arm up to brush some hair out of her face, but it brushed up against the tight skin on the side of her breasts. This shouldn’t have been so unusual to her- she _was_ a morning milker, after all- but it nevertheless caught her off-guard just how full she could get. She had measured herself recently when she was empty- just one of these things was seventy-eight and a half centimeters around (bigger than a basketball, a friend had mentioned on a night out). She smiled, remembering fondly those times where she “forgot” to milk herself on the weekends, trying to see just how far she could go before her body called it for her.

She shook her head, kicking herself out of her reverie. Not time for this now. She had to deal with the current, pressing problem sitting on her chest. And almost obscuring her navel. Fuck, she remembered that one time where she got her tits to finally sit on her lap after two whole days of swelling with her bounty. She had finally achieved that dream of hers, and Sam was so proud of her--

‘Sam! Milking! Morning routine! Dammit, focus!’

Hermea shook herself again, pushing herself off the cushion and finally off the bed. Looking back at the bed, she admired her better half still dead to the world, lost in her dreams. That ‘cushion’ she rested against wasn’t made of fabric, but was one of the massive, oblong spheres attached to her wife’s chest. They each radiated a comforting warmth that Hermea loved to drift off to sleep to, and that always had made waking up difficult. While they piled up on either side of her, each stretching half a meter across, they still managed to meet in the middle, making a sizable cleft between them. Sam smiled, mumbling something in her sleep, the oddity of this making Hermea pause. She remembered Sam talking at length about some wonderful dreams she had, but that she clammed up when she asked what, exactly, those dreams were about.

Sam… oh, Sam. She wasn’t an easy one to get used to. Always so loud and thinking of the strangest things. A month ago, out of nowhere, she chopped off most of her hair and dyed what little she had left blue, explaining it all with something about the “drapes matching the windows”. Sam had a short, stocky build, and her thin arms betrayed just how muscular she was beneath the swells of her breasts. Hermea would be remiss to not note the fourth thing Sam told everyone new she met: that her breasts had “broken the meter”. Whether that meant that they were a full meter from side to side, a meter around, or whether they could break a meterstick if dropped on one, Hermea could never know. Looking down at Sam’s breasts, she noticed a pearl of milk that had formed on one of her nipples sometime after Hermea had stood up.

She decided it was time for an experiment.

Hermea left the room, returning with a ruler. Carefully, she leaned forward and slipped it between Sam’s breasts, gently slipping it down until it refused to move lower. As she pulled back, she noticed that the ‘3’ on the inches side stuck half-out above the mountain of flesh around it, as well as the fact that Sam’s breasts pushed against each other enough to keep the ruler upright. The first data point taken, Hermea turned to their bathroom.

Hermea grabbed the chair and moved it closer to the milker in the corner. Living with someone under the colloquially-called “hyper program” had its benefits. Sam’s excessive milking requirements meant that Hermea always had access to a proper milker. None of that half-assed pumping power she suffered with growing up that slowed down whenever she got down to her cream. This thing didn’t slow down in the slightest, for better and for worse. Sure, sometimes she found herself sore after a longer session, but nothing was so satisfying as hearing your pump keep chugging along while your tits were doing their damnedest to slow it down.

She grabbed the smaller set of pumps, made sure the machine had the right set selected, and started the pump. She sat down as the set first one nozzle, then the other over her eager nipples, feeling them first get sealed over, then start to reluctantly offer up their milk a few drops at a time. Before long, she would start to see streams of her hard-produced milk get pulled in by the machine. She settled in and waited for the milker to finish its task and started planning out her day.

\---------

The sensation of getting milked, of one’s breasts slowly starting to push streams of light milk, then eventually standard milk, then the increased effort of releasing the cream was something Hermea never got tired of. The slow progression was heaven to her, but before she used these heavier pumps, it always led to the most frustrating part of the whole process: determining whether it was just the pump struggling with some of the heavier cream, or if she really was letting out the last drops of her milk. Thankfully, whatever software these pumps were running on could tell when someone really was at the end, as a series of short beeps broker her from her reverie.

Damn. She forgot to make the list this morning. Again.

Sighing, she pulled the nozzles off her breasts and stood up, pushing the chair back to its usual location. It was technically Sam’s pump, so the least she could do is make sure she set everything back in place for her. Even with the few movements since the pump shut off, she could definitely feel the difference from before she sat down. It never really got into her mind just how much milk she was carrying before she pumps, but it never ceased to surprise her after the fact. Had she been making more recently? She’d have to check next time, as the lights flashing her amount were off and were usually ignored by her after her sessions.

She yawned as she returned to the bedroom, and glanced at Sam, still fast asleep and muttering. Hermea leaned in and looked at the ruler again. The ‘3’ was definitely swallowed up by the tit flesh around it, as were a few tick marks after it. This was definitely one of “those dreams” that she didn’t want to share, and that definitely would make Sam’s morning mobility worse if left unchecked. Time to step in.

“Sam, come on, wake up.” Hermea shook Sam’s shoulder- something she had to put a little more force into it than she was used to, given the massive dampeners attached not too far away.

“Mnh--!” Sam picked her head up, then brought a hand to her face to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Did you need to wake me up just as I got to the good part?”

“Sorry. Out of curiosity, what is ‘the good part’?”

Sam froze, and Hermea could tell she wasn’t trying to meet her eyes. Unfortunately, what her eyes did land on was the remnants of her impromptu experiment nestled in her cleavage. Going for the change of topic, Sam reached forward and pulled the ruler out, brandishing it towards Hermea.

“I’m sorry, but what was this for?”

“Oh, nothing. Just trying to measure your patience, Sammy.” She turned to the kitchen, trying to hide the smile on her face, but couldn’t escape Sammy giving her ass a playful slap with the ruler.

Deep down, Hermea wanted to stay and help Sam get up- in her mind, standing up with Sam’s breasts could be an ordeal in and of itself, but she knew that Sam highly valued her independence and would only suffer the blow to her pride if the circumstances were dire. It had happened a few times, to be fair, but Sam wouldn’t allow herself to be forgiven for those infractions. Still, it was Sam’s life and Sam’s situation. She knew her limits, and Hermea didn’t want to overstep a boundary. But every morning, she still felt that pang of worry.

By now, Hermea had grabbed her granola bars and tablet and sat down at the table. That was another oddity of Sam’s that didn’t make sense at first- she bought one of those really short tables from Japan that you basically sat on the floor to get under. Hermea could never remember the name. Everyone that visited their apartment found this decision an odd one, given that she had no other proclivities toward that nation, but Hermea knew the singular reason Sam wanted this.

Speaking of which, Hermea heard the bed give its final creak, followed by a slapping noise and a soft “oof”. A few moments later, Sam appeared at the kitchen doorway and maneuvered one tit in, then her body, then the other tit. She shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and a bag of cereal before landing on the other side of the table with meaty thump. Hermea spotted a few dots of milk that appeared on Sam’s massive nipples. Sam poured some cereal in the bowl, set the bag aside, then very carefully set the bowl down on the table, making minute adjustments to where it sat and where her right tit pointed. After a minute, she sat back, satisfied.

She then bent forward and purposefully landed face-first into her tit.

She pressed down in a rehearsed manner, squeezing in a very particular way with her hands. Her reward was expressed unseen by herself- several streams of milk arcing half a foot into her bowl. Hermea noted with surprise that only two of those streams managed to miss their mark, a new record for the eccentric girl.

A few seconds later, Sam pulled herself back up and eased off her breast, her heavy breaths likely a sign that she held her breath for the entire duration, but Hermea couldn’t be sure. “You know,” she said, between crunching mouthfuls of her granola, “there are easier ways to do that.”

“But are they as fun?” Sam challenged, taking her first spoonful.

“They require less cleanup.”

“Pfft. The more cleanup’s required, the more fun you had.” As Sam chuckled to herself, Hermea couldn’t help but remember the long nights they spent together- of how much they truly enjoyed each other, but also how much of a mess Sam single-handedly made. “Oi!” Sam snapped Hermea from her thoughts. “I know that face. You know what I meant.”

Hermea smiled. “Oh, come on. Tell me you didn’t have fun, too.”

Sam blushed and pulled her bowl closer. Hermea knew better than to keep teasing to early in the morning- she learned her lesson quick after helping Sam lug a pair of boobs out of the kitchen that were noticeably larger than when they went in.

\---------

“Alright,” Hermea buttoned up her jacket, “I’m off to work.”

“Have fun!” Sam held her arms out wide, and Hermea leaned in. They kissed each other on one cheek, then the other. “Do lots of science!”

“I will when they finally decide to further the grants. I swear, they-- No, sorry, you wouldn’t know about that. I’ll tell you when I get back. Don’t keep your work waiting too long.”

“Ugh, I know, I know. I’ll keep my milking quick.”

“Good to hear.” Hermea opened the front door, turning to give a last wave, “Have a nice day.”

“You too!” Sam kept waving until the door closed behind Hermea. She waited a few seconds until she knew her wife wouldn’t hear, then turned to look down at the bloated tits sitting in her lap.

“Alright, you two. Let’s get you dealt with.”

*~*

Sam checked the milking machine over before settling down, ensuring everything was on its proper settings. Didn’t want to have to break off and adjust something that wasn’t set up right. She moved the chair out of the way, and sat herself down on the cold tile. Normally, she would have just used the chair, but she needed this today. Those dreams just kept coming back, and good God, did they rile her up.

She pulled the larger set of nozzles down, and pulled first one engorged nipple up to insert it, then the other one. She slumped down and flipped the milker to “on”, letting herself get lost in the sensations. First, oozing out all those droplets, her tits would reluctantly give up their bounty, shyly flirting their first gifts. But soon enough, they would start to get braver, unlocking more and more of their stores to--

Hang on. How did that…? Sam pulled her hand up, out of her sweatpants and panties. Had she subconsciously slipped her hand down there? She frowned at the revelation. She wasn’t someone who subconsciously did things.

She *actively* did them.

She grabbed the waistbands of both layers and carelessly shoved them out of the way, then reached over to the remote and pushed the intensity up a few notches. ‘Game on, you fucking tits. Game. On.’

She slapped the side of her boobs, the dumb orbs who only knew how to engorge themselves, cramming every single drop of milk they could into their endless bulk, and how to release it all after some convincing. The pumps, pressure, Hermea’s mouth, fuck, Hermea knew how to speak to them, dare to them, challenge them. It was like she insulted their output. ‘What, a few droplets? A few meager streams? For all that bulk insinuates, you fuckers don’t live up to your name, do you?’

Sam’s hand went deep, and she felt herself squeeze down hard on it as a bolt of energy seized her being. Fuck yes, this was it. When Hermea really got into it, she could toy with her nipples hard enough to really mess with her. Sam pulled her hand up, circling with her clit for a moment as she tried to stretch the moment out. She slammed her hand back inside her and pushed down on her tit with all her might.

Hermea teased her, but was never rough enough. Sam needed her tits to be slapped, her milk to be taken. She could be gentle and kind on her own time, but now she needed to remind those fat fucking tits of hers who was in charge and what the dynamic was. How rebellious they were on their own time, and the lessons they needed to learn.

Fuck, fuck! Sam eased off. Not yet, she wasn’t feeling the cream come out yet. She grabbed a wide handful of titflesh and felt herself. All that mass between her fingers and under her palm, the milk glands deep in her flesh all giving up their load, releasing the tide. The endless torrent that coalesced at her nipples and the countless streams that her dumb, fat tits eagerly kept spitting out. Soon enough, the reservoirs would have to turn to--

Fuck, yes! The cream! “Loved” wasn’t strong enough for the sensation. Desired. Craved. The slow switch from the freely-flowing milk to the fucking cream that tests your nipples, that sits in your mouth as you swallow, that makes people and pumps alike choke slightly from its thick consistency.

Sam was losing herself in her thoughts. The sensations burned together, from between her legs to the ends of her breasts. She clamped down on her hand with her legs, slammed an arm into her massive tits, and buried her head in her cleavage, hoping to bury the scream.

Breathless, she slowly picked her head up. Her hand ached from the flurry of attention she gave her clit, and she could feel a few drips of milk that seeped out of the nozzles. God, she loved it when she proved herself better than technology. She softly let her head back down on top of the pile of her breasts, and relished in the afterglow mingling with the slow, subtle satisfaction of the last of her cream slowly being drained from her breasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome back!”
> 
> “Thanks, Sam. How much did you make this morning?”
> 
> "I… don’t pay attention to that.”
> 
> “Hm. Yeah, I can get that. A liter makes at your size doesn’t make that much of a difference.”


	2. Hyper Solutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Search "*~*" to jump to the sex scene.

Hermea closed the door behind herself. She didn’t know why, but she was slightly frustrated that the milker told her that she wasn’t putting out more milk in a day. Just yesterday, her intuition had told her that she was, but the milker just had to put a dampener on her emotions, didn’t it? Well, it wasn’t like she needed the extra milk. She reminded herself that her breasts technically were larger than the average woman’s, and her daily productivity was above average. Besides, what was she going to do with all that extra milk? It all went into her wife’s milker, anyway.

Hermea reached the stairs and started making her way down. Just like she never got used to the weight difference before and after her daily milking, the bouncing she felt as the went down this stairwell in the morning always felt a little surreal, given what her mornings felt like.

One, two, three, four floors. The stairwells in this building were so eerily quiet for how populated the building was. She knew why, given that most of the residents didn’t have the anatomy that made climbing stairs easy, but the silence in this liminal space still quietly upset her.

Soon enough, Hermea found herself exiting the building, habitualy checking that she indeed carried the key card that let her back in. Round the corner on the street, she passed dozens of people as they went about their mornings, and slipped down the stairs into the subway.

The rattling subway on its aging tracks never failed to remind Hermea of her size differences. As it shook her enough to worry about her single filling, she could also feel her chest shake and rub against the bra that it wasn’t large enough to fill. She had considered putting the bra another notch up that morning, but she didn’t have the time to make that adjustment, and she certainly wasn’t going to do this on the train. Maybe when she got to work.

The car hit a particularly bad section of track, jolting all the passengers equally. Hermea winced in sympathy as the poor hypertrophied girl on the other side of the car was thrown back into the wall behind her, a move that Sam would reference as a reason she hated taking the subway.

The car began to slow, and the speakers murmured the name of the coming station. Readying herself to depart, Hermea turned toward the doors and waited.

\----

Hermea dropped her coat over the back of her chair and threw herself into the seat, logging in to her computer to start the day. That company finally renewed her part of the contract, and she had been unceremoniously saddled with several gigabytes worth of data to have to sift through and parse, massage and manipulate to find the results the company wanted. And all contained in Excel spreadsheets. Fun.

The research firm she worked for specialized in helping hypertrophied people (like her wife) make their lives easier, but the companies that outsourced their R&D to them were scattered all across the board. Each quarter was a new adventure for her to see what the rotation of companies that this firm was contracted to wanted. A new “portable” milker that had an abysmal milk storage system, a “revolutionary” (“barely tested”) and “exciting” (“malfunction-prone”) waterbed that could soak up overnight milk (God, that one was a disaster waiting to happen), an ill-fated pill that was supposed to help boost milk production for commercial purposes (why they didn’t just hook up to the output of a single Hyper Program building was beyond both her and her coworkers).

Hermea cracked her knuckles, rolled her shoulders, and settled in to the daily grind of dealing with a massive amount of data.

\----

Hermea leaned back in her chair. Her bra had finally started to bug her enough with its mild pinching, and she had only managed to clean up the data in one of these spreadsheets. She paused as she saw her coworker set a cup of coffee next to her. He was a thin man, with black hair and plenty of scruff around his face. His plaid shirt had overlaid colors that almost managed to be presentable, but certainly drew attention away from the bulge on his beige pants that marked him as part of the hypertrophied population.

“Thanks, John.” She smiled as the picked up the cup and took a sip. “How’s work going?”

<Not great,> John signed after setting his cup down, <but at least there’s progress. Things would go faster if they had actual data standards.>

“Ugh, I know how you’re feeling. It’s like they’re trying to make things as hard as possible for us.”

<Did you hear about our visitor today?>

“A visitor? Awfully short notice, isn’t it. Unless it’s…?” John nodded. “Really? Why are they bringing June around?”

John shrugged. <Someone from upstairs wanted to bring her around. Something about a company wanting a newer version of something she worked on.>

“Well, I hope that doesn’t take up all her time here. Rather disappointing, flying someone a thousand miles just for a brief meeting.”

<I don’t think it’s just a brief meeting. They wanted her here to work on something.>

“Huh. Wonder what’s so important to pull her away from her projects.”

<I don’t know. Probably another flop, knowing some of them.>

“Well, thanks for letting me know. Don’t let me keep you from your work.” She smiled as John dramatically rolled his eyes, then turned to leave, giving a last wave before disappearing around the corner.

Hermea returned the wave, then turned back to her computer, then reconsidered and turned to her bra. Her cubicle was fairly isolated from her neighbors, so she didn’t necessarily need to adjust her bra in the bathroom, right? Either way, she wasn’t fond of having to walk all that way for something as quick as this.

She nudged her blouse out of the way and reached to one side of her bra. With a practiced move, she nudged first one strap a little lower, then the other. She re-settled her breasts so that they didn’t sit so high and pool over the fabric. Her productivity was a slow and steady one throughout the day, and that demanded that she, like any other woman in the world, make quick and subtle adjustments to her bra throughout the day. It was a little more frequent for her, given her larger-than-average size, but she just understood this as coming with the territory.

Just as she was about to return to work, she paused and checked over she shoulders again. A wall to her back and privacy barriers to her sides. If she played her cards right…

Hermea quickly pulled the neckline of her shirt down and fished out a boob. Carefully, cup in one hand and nipple in the other, she pulled a brief streams of milk into the cup and set the cup back down, slipping her breast back into its position.

Ignoring the mild demand for similar release from her other side, the returned to work as she sipped the slightly sweeter coffee.

\----

Hermea sighed as the leaned back in her chair. Her bra, back, and shoulders were killing her. Yes, it was probably a mistake to take so large of a lunch. Yes, she had been sitting here for hours and hadn’t paused to re-adjust herself since this morning. Yes, her posture was horrible. But she had been in the zone, and actually made quite some progress on the pile of work that had been assigned to her. Unfortunately, her body was now questioning her decision to not take a break and deal with her other bodily needs in this time. Fine, this was a problem she could deal--

A sneeze from right behind her made Hermea jump. Considering no one worked behind her, and that her corner of the office didn’t have a lot of foot traffic, she wasn’t expecting someone to be around here.

“Guh. Sorry.” Hermea knew that voice.

“June!” She spun around and stood, smiling at the old friend.

June was not as sunny as her name implied. She never wore any bright clothes, and her lab jacket that she usually wore always had some singular stain in an odd color somewhere where it didn’t make sense. Her skin was always pale and slightly gray, as though she were constantly sick. Her smoking habit probably didn’t help her too much in that regard, making her voice tough and gravelly, enough for some people to confuse her for a man.

To be fair, it’s not like her lack of chest was helping matters. Where even the smallest of regular women at least could fill a hand on each side, June simply had nothing to speak of. She had explained the genetic/developmental reasons to both Hermea and Sam at their apartment one night over wine, but Hermea couldn’t tell the pentasyllabic (or longer!) hormone names apart through her drinks. Something about her being totally unable to pick up the hormonal signal that signals her body to stop the growth, which was also a precursor to the signal to start growth? She still couldn’t understand it.

That was also the thing with June. She had the mind you only found once a generation. Maybe more often, considering the modern education system, but still. Her mind picked up on so many topics and lessons, it made Hermea’s head spin. Her favorite introduction line was to list off the sheer number of degrees, bachelors, masters, and doctorates, then ending it with “but please, just call me June”. She was a thing to behold when she was focusing on her work, but she specifically needed people to tear her away from her work when she started to wear herself down.

June smiled as Hermea’s face lit up. “Don’ you look too happy to see me. I tried to spook ya’.”

“Well, nice to meet you, too! I’ve been looking for an excuse to take a break.” Hermea hugged June, something that she knew the latter barely tolerated for her close friends.

“Mm. You know where the balconies are in this building? I don’ wanna have to go all the way to the ground floor to use these cancer sticks.”

“Yeah, come on, follow me.”

\----

Hermea showed her out to the outdoor lunch area that overlooked the bay. As June lit her cigarette against the winds, Hermea took the time to adjust her bra like she had earlier in the day. She frowned as she did so, repeating the process to get a better fit. God, these things liked to get so big quick, didn’t they? She sighed, leaning forward, and noted that her breasts touched the railing, something they never did during the company-mandated “optional” lunches.

“Hope you’re not trying to show off to all and sundry or brag to me, because I could care less about all that.”

“Sorry. I didn’t take care of that earlier in the day, and I know you don’t really mind.”

“Ah, you don’t need to apologize.” June waved Hermea’s concerns off. “Only ones that need to are the discontented suits that pulled me over here to develop a sex pill for their shortcomings beneath the belt and above the band.”

Hermea rose an eyebrow. “…Didn’t they make you sign an NDA?”

“None of those silly little things in my contracts. Anyway, this chick asked me to make something that would allow her to- get this- let her build up her milk for an entire month. Maybe kick up her production a notch, too.”

“What?” Hermea let out a small laugh. “Why would you…?”

“Beats me. Rich people get too bored with their money, I suppose. Didn’t tell them I had already developed something like that for someone else. Hello, six free months and a cool seven mil.”

“‘Something like that’? This is common for you?”

“Nah. Some other suits had asked for something to seal her nips for a week, someone else asked to be able to turn her trickles into streams. I figure I mix those two and change their strengths, and boom,” she snapped her fingers, “contract complete. Keeping some of the guinea pigs quiet may take some extra funds, though. Least nothing’s permanent, so they shouldn’t complain so much.”

Hermea shook her head. “Just casually screwing with biology, aren’t you?” She suddenly stopped as a connection formed in her head. “Wait, hang on. The second thing you mentioned. It increases milk supply, doesn’t it?” June nodded. “Was it called Afxisolactea?”

June raised an eyebrow. “…And how did you hear of this?”

“I went through the tests for that drug! Everyone kept wondering why this was a thing in the first place!”

“Hrmph. Well, there you go. Blame an insecure, horny CEO for that mistake.”

“…Do you remember who it was?”

June stared off into the distance as she let out a cloud of smoke. “Sounded Greek. Lizzie-something? Can’t remember.”

\----

The two of them continued to talk for a while, catching up on each other’s lives. Before Hermea knew it, five o’clock had rolled around.

“Well, it’s been nice talking with you again. Shame it has to be because of these circumstances.”

“Oh, I’m not heading back yet. Someone else wanted to borrow my ‘expertise’. Heard through the grapevine that their daughter’s gonna be a Hyper, and these ‘caring parents’ want a special pump for her.”

“Well, it’s nice to hear you’ll be around. What are you going to do?”

“Probably re-use my old design, slap a new exterior on it. What they won’t know won’t hurt them.”

Hermea chuckled. “Ugh, not looking to explaining why I didn’t get as much work done today to my boss.”

“Pfft. Fuck them.” She put out her cigarette as she stepped inside. “Can’t have you working all the time. Besides, they can’t pay you anywhere near enough to care.”

“June—”

“I mean, look at me. I get paid millions per job, do I *look* like I care about my clients?”

“Your clients need you. They don’t need me.”

“Mm.” June landed a hand on Hermea’s shoulder. “Well, I’m not going to try and preach to you here. Let me know when you’re open in the next few days, just not today or tomorrow. Love to catch up with Sammy, too.”

“We can try and make something work. I’ll talk with her”

“Thanks. Make sure she’s full, I’ll be bringing the churn around.”

Hermea sighed. “Can’t you just get milk like a normal person?”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I like your wife’s milk. ‘Sides, not like she uses it all.”

“Love you too, June.” Hermea said, pointedly. “Have a nice day.”

June chuckled. “’Ta.”

\----

Hermea’s journey back to her apartment was routine. Two blocks to the station, wait five minutes, get on. Keep her urges in check as the rails that really should have been replaced two years ago shake and jostle her endowments and test the strength of her bra. Catch herself fantasizing about playing with them when she gets home and stop herself from being too engorged when she gets around to pumping in the morning. Get off at her stop. Get to the building. Climb the stairs and indulge herself a little with those thoughts, reflecting on how much bigger they get not even past one day. Get to her floor. Get to her door. Unlock and open the door, and greet her--

Huh.

Her adoring wife wasn’t sitting at the table, staring at the laptop’s screen and cursing to herself every few seconds. Sure, the laptop was open, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. Furrowing her brow, Hermea closed the door behind her and listened. She heard, at the far end of the apartment, Sam swearing to herself. Why she would be doing that away from the computer instead of at it was beyond her. She decided to investigate.

Before she stepped out of the room, she saw something out of the corner of her eye and paused to look closer. On either side of Sam’s laptop were puddles of milk, and not small ones. Hermea also noticed that the table was pushed off of its original location (aligned to the floor tiles) by an inch or so. And that it was pushed away from where Sam had been sitting.

Oh, this wasn’t good.

Hermea moved at a pace that could generously be called a jog, and cynically be called a hurried walk towards the bathroom, where Sam’s swearing came from. As she turned the final corner, she saw, well…

Sam normally wasn’t a small girl in the chest department. It was actually kind of difficult to tell whether she was empty or full even in the best of times. Hermea spent years with Sam, and even the former had trouble telling how full she was at times. When you have that much bulk, what difference does a little more to the pile make?

You couldn’t say that here.

If Sam was huge before, she was massive now. Her swells sat fat and full in front of her body, pressed up against the wall as much as you could for giant boobs that size, the milking nozzles sitting at an awkward angle against the wall and floor. Behind them sat Sam, halfway between resting on top of them and kneeling behind them, cursing like a sailor as a single arm stretched as far as it could towards the controls; specifically, the start button.

She had gotten everything set up, but she couldn’t start the machine because her tits were too massive.

Hermea noted the situation for her future fantasies.

Sam jumped, suddenly noticing that there was someone else in the room besides her. For a moment, she was too shocked to do anything but stare, but warned her wife when she recovered.

“Don’t.”

“I wasn’t--”

“Don’t. I can do this. I don’t need help with this.” Sam set her teeth, determined to be able to reach the button that was inches from the tips of her fingers.

“Well—”

“Don’t!”

“I wasn’t going to do anything!” Hermea said defensively. “I was just going to point something out.”

Sam paused. “Huh?”

“Well, the plunger is right behind you, so…”

Sam tilted her head, then glanced behind herself. “W-- What does that… Oh my fucking God.”

In a way only Sam could do, she easily reached behind herself with her foot, grabbed the plunger between her toes, passed it to her hands, and easily flipped the milker’s power switch to “on” with about a foot of arm length to spare.

Sam’s head fell into her cleavage. “I can’t believe myself.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Hermea suggested, “at least you won’t get caught like this next time.”

Sam’s grip on the plunger tightened. “But I never allow myself to get into these kinds of situations.”

Hermea sighed. Sam needed a distraction. “Well, maybe.” She pulled the plunger from Sam’s hand and set it back where it sat before. “You know, something caught my attention.” She moved to the front of Sam, swinging a leg over her breasts to get comfortable, the positioning of the two making her briefly worry that she gave away her ploy. “Something must have really riled you up today,” Hermea ran her right hand along the wide curve of her wife’s breasts, “enough to shift the kitchen table and make you leak in the kitchen.” Sam started to look away, but Hermea led the gaze back to her with her other hand. “Do you want to talk about what it was?”

*~*

“But Hemmie, I’m pumping–” Sam’s hesitant speech was stopped by a finger to her lips.

“It’s a good thing that you’ll be getting it out of you soon, then. Don’t worry,” she unfastened her skirt and started pulling her panties down, “I’ll do what I can to make it worth the extra time. Now,” she brushed a thumb across Sam’s cheek as she cradled her face, “what could have _possibly_ made you this riled up?”

“It’s…” Sam swallowed, “it’s related to the dreams I’ve been having.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ve– they’re about us.” Hermea noticed one of Sam’s hands moving further south, and that the breasts she was sitting on were subtly changing consistency. The latter was a good or bad sign, depending on whether or not you were the one cleaning up. “In them, we’re…” Sam’s other hand was starting to pull Hermea’s clothes out of the way. “We’re just like this, you’re sitting right in front of me, but I’m– I’m…”

Sam stopped telling Hermea about her dreams, and started showing her. Hermea, while initially surprised, quickly took to this method of conveyance.

Neither of them were strangers to oral, but Sam was frustratingly _better_ with her mouth, whether she had in Hermea’s breasts or- like now- between her legs. She had already the hood back and was teasing it around with her tongue before Hermea could properly react- though the sensations had probably slowed her reactions.

As Sam continued her relentless assault, Hermea felt a gentle tingle spread through her chest and her bra tighten slightly. With one hand keeping Sam’s head in place, urging her further along in her actions, Hermea pulled her shirt up and fumbled with the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts that had just filled up enough to start making the bra’s current size a little restrictive.

A long, slow pull by Sam snapped Hermea back into the action. The longer she kept this running, the longer Sam would be waiting.  She played with her nipples, drawing streams from her slowly growing stock. The pump behind her was drawing more in a second than she would be expressing today, but that wasn’t important right now. She focused on teasing her nipples, testing how much her breasts could produce–

Hermea’s thoughts fled her mind as an orgasm slammed into her, then a second, making her involuntarily wrap her body around Sam’s head. After a moment to let herself regain most of the feeling in her limbs, she untangled herself and looked down at Sam’s smiling face.

“I think those dreams have been giving you too much practice,” Hermea said between breaths. “You’re going to make me feel inadequate.” She pulled a leg over Sam’s head and stood up shakily.

“Oh? And what if I am?” Sam shifted her legs forward and pushed her ass into the air. “What, you’re going to punish me for that?”

“You bet I will.” Hermea dropped down right next to Sam. Sure, Sam had her mouth, but Hermea had her hands. She wrapped an arm around Sam, keeping her from squirming away from her lesson, and pushed with her other.

Sam’s reaction was quick, grabbing on to the expanses of her breasts she could reach and sinking into their masses. Beyond them, Hermea could hear the pumps begin to struggle to keep up with Sam’s increasing output.

“H-Harder!” Sam squeaked.

“Huh?” Hermea played coy, “What do you–?”

“ _Fuck me harder, Hermea!_ ”

Hermea blinked. Sam was rarely so direct and commanding, much less one to yell. Best to keep things moving- her own breasts weren’t sitting comfortably in the bra dangling over them.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to keep pushing for long- Sam’s high-pitched noises reached a crescendo, then another, then a third. Hermea pulled her hands back as Sam slowly sank down to the floor in a puddle- a small amount of which coming from each of their breasts. Hermea turned to pull out a towel to start cleaning both of them off.

“Y–” Sam breathed, “You’re such a _wonderful_ person, Hermea.”

Hermea patted Sam on her breasts. “Thank you, darling,” she pointed toward the pump, “but you’re still cleaning up your milk.”

The smile on Sam’s face evaporated, and she let her head drop into her cleavage.


End file.
